


Hyperpyrexia

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, spoilers for partizan ep 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: At first, she feels better. At first, sheisbetter.
Relationships: Clementine Kesh & Sovereign Immunity
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Hyperpyrexia

**Author's Note:**

> crysanth not visiting clem or sending any kind of word to her made me feel very sad, and so: this fic

At first, she feels better. At first, she  _ is _ better. Leap, despite all evidence, had proven to be a better surgeon than Dr Schuyler. Her wounds aren’t healed, but they are stitched closed, finally. She sits up in bed for the first time in a week without having to worry about spilling blood. Alone in her room, she laughs, then winces slightly. The joy stays though, and the self-satisfaction, as she sits in bed and reads through reports.

There is much to catch up on. The world doesn’t stop simply because she is ill, even though it feels as though it should. Apart from a few forwarded reports there isn’t any word from her mother, but she could hardly expect it for something so minor. She sends an intel summary through to her mother and receives confirmation that her mother has read it, and that’s… well. That’s normal.

Leap stops by the next day with Millie under the pretext of checking on “his patient” but really looking for more praise. Clem is feeling well enough that she is almost included to give him some.

“You have done a passable job, I suppose,” says Clem.

Leap laughs, and tosses some of the candied fruit that the servants have brought into his mouth. There’s quite a lot of them. Clem usually quite likes them, especially when she’s feeling under the weather, but she hasn’t felt like eating them just yet. She has had a major surgery after all. That’s probably normal too.

She feels a little tired the next day, too tired for visitors. Naturally, Sovereign Immunity visits anyway. Clem lacks the strength to let her annoyance be known, struggling to stay awake as Sovereign Immunity tells her about something he’s trying to organise. A prison function of some kind, which sounds like a terrible idea but her mind is too fuzzy to think about why that is.

“You highness?” says Sovereign Immunity.

Clem shakes herself out of her daze. “I… Sorry, I was thinking of… other things.”

Sovereign Immunity frowns. “Are you feeling alright?”

“No, of course I’m not,” says Clem, as sharply as she’s able, “I just had major surgery.”

“You just look a little… pale,” says Sovereign Immunity.

Clem imagines she also looks a little grimy, sweaty, and dishevelled in addition to looking pale, which doesn’t exactly help her feel better about her present situation.

“I believe visiting hours are over,” says Clem.

“Right,” says Sovereign Immunity, “of course.” He stands, hovering at the doorway. “Is there anything… are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course,” says Clem, waving him off, “There’s no need for your concern Sovereign Immunity, I am surrounded by guards and physicians. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Overnight, her temperature begins to rise. She won’t know until later, but this is the beginning of her fever that will burn through her. For now, what she knows is that for the first time since she arrived at the Winter Palace, she feels too hot. She throws her sheets off her bed, switching between pillows every few minutes. A headache begins to build in the heat, and Clem fumbles for something, anything in her bedside drawer that feels cool to her touch for more than a moment.

Her eyes go to the windows of her bedroom. Ice crystals have formed on the outside of the glass, shimmering with the promise of relief.

When Sovereign Immunity drops by to visit, she’s pulled herself out of bed to struggle with the locking mechanism on the window. They’re set just a little too high in the window for her to be able to comfortably reach. She doesn’t have the strength to pull over any of her furniture to climb on, forcing her to go up on tiptoes as she struggles with the lock. She would be more concerned with how undignified she looks if she didn’t feel so dreadfully  _ hot _ .

Sovereign Immunity rushes forwards, his hands reaching towards her for a moment before he seems to stop himself. “Your highness, what-?”

“It’s too hot in here,” says Clem, “I want the fresh air.”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” says Sovereign Immunity, “It’s below freezing outside, and you’re… you’re still not well.”

Clem huffs, resting her head against the cool glass for a moment before she lowers herself back down. “I suppose, I-”

She stumbles a little as a wave of dizziness hits her, falling into Sovereign Immunity. He catches her easily, letting out a sound of surprise. He half-carries her to the bed, putting the back of his hand to her forehead. She means to say something about crossing lines and impropriety, but she can’t seem to get the words out. 

“You have a temperature,” says Sovereign Immunity, “I’m going to get the doctor.”

“Leap?” she manages.

Sovereign Immunity pauses. “No, not Leap.”

He steps back into the room a moment later with Dr. Schuyler in tow. Dr. Schuyler looks her over, as thoroughly as ever. He gives her some painkillers and tells her to rest, stepping away to pack things back into her medical bag. Sovereign Immunity leans towards him, murmuring questions that she’s too tired to hear.

“I’ll be back to visit you in the morning, your highness,” says Dr. Schuyler.

“Very well doctor,” says Clem, not bothering to open her eyes, “if you feel you must.”

When she next opens her eyes it’s dark. She no longer feels hot, instead she feels dreadfully cold, wrapping herself tight in the quilt. The feeling begins to pass, turning to a heat that has her casting off her blankets once again. She puts a hand to her stitches. They feel fine. They’re still intact. She’s still intact. Everything is fine.

She drags herself out of bed, struggling to put on her dressing gown before she casts it aside. It’s too hot to think of wearing it anyway. Clem pushes open the door to her room, into the quiet and dark corridor. If she can’t open the window then she will just go outside. She’ll only be there a moment, just to cool down a little, and then she can finally rest.

She makes it to the door of the sunroom before she has to sit down. Sovereign Immunity finds her there, some time later. She looks up at him, fighting through the fog in her mind to place him.

“Sovereign Immunity,” says Clem, slowly, “I don’t think I feel very well.”

It’s a horrifically childish thing to say. If she had the presence of mind, she would no doubt be embarrassed to admit it at all, let alone in so forthright a manner. As it is, she lets Sovereign Immunity pick her up, carrying her back to her bedroom.

There are fresh sheets on the bed.

“Yes,” says Sovereign Immunity, “I thought it would be good to- I hope it wasn’t overstepping.”

“It was,” says Clem, “but it was good of you.”

Dr. Schuyler returns, speaking quietly with Sovereign Immunity and then stepping outside to call someone. Clem thinks that, perhaps, she hears her mother’s voice. Clem turns her face away from the door, closing her eyes.

She hears someone step back into the room a moment later. Clem holds herself very still.

“Your highness?” says Sovereign Immunity.

With great effort, Clem turns back to face him. He’s frowning, the lines of his face deepening with worry.

“There’s… you have an infection,” says Sovereign Immunity, “The Winter Doctor believes you will need some time to recover.”

Clem lets out a breath and looks up at the ceiling, too tired to even be angry. “Exeter Leap.”

“Almost certainly,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“I suppose he thinks this is justly deserved,” says Clem, “I refused his advice and now I am paying for it.”

“You wanted to get better,” says Sovereign Immunity, “I don’t know that there’s anyone who would claim not to be able to understand that.”

Clem turns her head slowly to look at him. They both know someone quite well that that isn’t true for.

Crysanth Kesh has never been sick for a single day of her life.

Sovereign Immunity returns to the jail, leaving Clem alone with her throbbing headache. The only other visitors are the servants, who come in and out quickly, leaving water and food for her to ignore. Clem tries to finish her reports, or read through intel, anything, but the words blur in front of her eyes. Instead, she closes her eyes and tries to think about her options.

She doesn’t want to call on Gur Sevraq. She’d rather not use up any favour she might have, and beside that, she’s always heard that miracles work if you believe, and she’s not much of a believer. She’ll just have to wait it out.

Clem doesn’t have to wait long, her fever climbing steadily over the next day. She alternates between feeling as though she’d freezing to death or boiling alive, and instructs the servants to turn away all visitors that are not the Winter Doctor or her mother. The only visitor she receives is that of Dr Schuyler, his expression unreadable as he checks her temperature.

She sinks into the fever, barely aware of her surroundings. She feels a cool cloth on her forehead, soothing even if it doesn’t provide anything other than momentary relief. Her throat works for a moment before she has enough strength to speak.

"Mother?"

The hands still for a moment. "Go back to sleep your highness."

It's a man's voice, a familiar voice but she can't place it. She feels safe in it, drifting back into sleep.

Her fever breaks two days later. She blinks awake, watching the afternoon sun drift in through the curtains, feeling wrung out more aware of her surroundings than she has in days. She turns her head slowly, frowning at the sight in front of her.

Sovereign Immunity sits next to her bedside, a half-finished cup of tea beside him. Clem watches him turn the page, engrossed in the words.

Clem swallows around her dry throat. “I thought I told them not to allow visitors.”

The book drops from his hands. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Terrible,” says Clem, “How long was I out?”

“Only a few days,” says Sovereign Immunity, “You haven’t missed much.”

“Good, that’s good.” Clem wets her lips. “I thought… was my mother here at all?”

Sovereign Immunity shifts in his chair. “I- No. She wasn’t.” He pauses. “I heard she’s been busy planning for an upcoming rally.”

Clem looks away. “Yes, of course. I must have imagined it. Fever, you know.”

“Sure,” says Sovereign Immunity. He pauses for so long that she thinks he must have gone back to his book. “I told her she should have visited. She, uh. Didn’t take it well.”

Clem snorts, trying to lift herself up to sit and wincing at the pull on her stitches. “That seems like an ill-advised move on your part.”

“It probably was, but it felt like the right one,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“Is that why she forced you to watch over me?” asks Clem.

“I doubt that she knows I’m here,” says Sovereign Immunity, “I’m sure she’d rather have me doing any number of other things at the moment.”

“So why aren’t you?”

“Because this… this is where I should be,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“Wasting time reading?”

“Watching over you, your highness,” says Sovereign Immunity, “You… it didn’t feel right, leaving you alone.”

“I wouldn’t have noticed,” says Clem.

“Still,” says Sovereign Immunity.

Clem studies him for a long moment. His face is serious, far too sincere for her to know what to do with in this moment. Her eyes drift to the book in his lap.

“What are you reading?” asks Clem.

“The  _ Abridged History of Quire _ ,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“That sounds dreadfully boring.”

Sovereign Immunity huffs a laugh. “I suppose it is, yeah.”

Clem pauses for a moment. “Read some to me. Please.”

After a slight hesitation, Sovereign Immunity begins to read aloud. Clem feels her eyes slip closed, sleep calling to her once again.

Unlike before, it feels good to surrender to it, relaxing back into the bed, as Sovereign Immunity’s voice guides her into rest. She knows he will be there waiting for her when she wakes up.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
